“Dale,” Louis said sharply, “Lacey was out in November. He was an early release. The printout had a typo. A fucking typo.”
For several seconds Dale just stared at him. Then he turned and walked slowly back to his desk. The silence was broken by the squeak of Dale’s chair. Louis looked over at him. Dale was pale, his eyes locked on Pryce’s and Lovejoy’s photographs hanging on the wall.
Louis closed the file. “Dale, make me a copy of this, will you?”
Dale nodded slowly, taking the file.
Gibralter’s voice broke the silence as it came over the radio. “Loon-1 to Central,” Gibralter said, “I’m going to be 10-6 for a while. Hold the briefing until I arrive.”
Dale didn’t move.
“Dale,” Louis called out. “The radio.”
Dale grabbed the mike and acknowledged.
“Tell him I need to talk to him, that it’s important,” Louis said.
Dale nodded and relayed the message. Louis heard Gibralter come back that he’d see him after briefing.
“No,” Louis said sharply. “Tell him it can’t wait.”
Louis glanced again at his watch. Eight-twenty. Where the hell was Gibralter? The man was never late for briefing.
Louis’s eyes went to Jesse, sitting across the room. He felt a new spurt of anger but forced it back. When Jesse had come in, he had wanted to confront him right there with the raid file, throw the damn thing in his face. But he knew he had to keep a calm head right now when he talked to Gibralter.
A blast of cold air filled the room. Louis turned to see Gibralter come in. He quickly turned away to avoid eye contact.
“Kincaid, in my office,” Gibralter said, handing his parka to Dale.
Jesse looked up questioningly. Louis didn’t look at him as he passed.
“Shut the door.”
Louis closed the door and turned to face Gibralter.
“Now what was so damn important?” Gibralter demanded.
“We picked up a suspect yesterday,” Louis began.
“Duane Lacey,” Gibralter said.
Louis nodded. “He looked good but his sheet said he was in prison until December 10. So I cut him loose.”
“And?” Gibralter said.
“The release date was wrong. It was a typo,” Louis said. “I called the DOC this morning. Lacey was released November 10.”
Gibralter didn’t move, not a muscle, not an eyebrow, nothing. From outside came the sounds of the other day-shift men waiting for briefing. Louis realized he was holding his breath and let it out. The red carpet beneath his feet seemed to be moving, undulating.
Gibralter turned away, going to the window.
“Why didn’t you tell me about his dead kids?” Louis asked.
“Lacey wasn’t a suspect. He was in prison.”
“You should have checked,” Louis said.
Gibralter turned to face him. “We did, Kincaid. I assigned it to Jesse.”
Louis’s gaze dropped to the carpet again. Jesse had relied on the written record instead of calling, just like he had.
“Jesse fucked up,” Gibralter said. “But that doesn’t make what you did any less stupid. You had a description of the truck and you had Lacey in custody. You should have held him.”
“On what?” Louis shot back.
“Anything,” Gibralter said, raising his voice. “You had him, Kincaid, and you shouldn’t have let him go.”
Louis bit back the angry words forming in his head. Lacey was on the loose to kill again. He himself was willing to take some of the blame but he wasn’t going to let Gibralter crucify him alone.
“Am I dismissed,
“Yes. But before you show your face at briefing I want an APB put out.”
Louis nodded, turned and left. The outer office was deserted, the other men waiting in the briefing room. Louis went quickly to the dispatch desk.
“Flo, put this out, ASAP, please,” Louis said.
She took the paper and read it, her eyes widening. Louis could hear her soft voice going out over the airwaves as he headed to the briefing room.
He paused outside the door to take a calming breath then went in. Gibralter was standing in his usual place behind the lectern. Five officers sat in folding chairs, including Dale. There were no other chairs, so Louis stood at the back of the room. Gibralter was staring at him. Suddenly, he knew what was going to happen. He was going to get lectured, right in front of everyone.
“Stay where you are, and introduce yourself, officer.”
Louis forced himself to look at Gibralter. He focused on a small white mark on his jaw, the white smudge of a styptic pencil.
“Let me help you,” Gibralter said, moving around in front of the lectern. “My name is Kincaid and I am a bleeding heart pussy who feels sorry for cop killers and I have no concept of what it means to wear a badge like the rest of these fine men.”
Louis felt his body go tight. The room was dead silent and the five faces became a blur.
“Explain to your fellow officers why you let a cop killer go.”
Louis kept his eyes on Gibralter. “The computer report said Lacey was still in prison. We didn’t -”
Gibralter cut in sharply. “Take responsibility for your own actions, officer. There is no
Louis glanced at Jesse but he wouldn’t look at him. “I had no reason to hold him,” Louis said.
